Page 7 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
He shifted me around so the sand wouldn’t rub against my back. I was honest-to-God scared to ask how bad my injuries were. My whole body ached, but the initial pain on my back numbed.
“You will.” Determination was etched in his voice and expression. “We’re going to get the fuck out of here. So you can take care of your sister and your brothers.”
“Royce and Winston will take care of Aurora,” I grunted, my consciousness slowly slipping away. His form blurred until I couldn’t see him anymore.
Focus. Breathe. Live. Survive.
Breathe. Live. Survive.
Those words kept repeating in my mind. The last thing I remembered was Kristoff throwing me over his shoulder and barking something to the rest of the men.
When I woke up, the skin on my back was gone. Fourth-degree burns affected my muscles and flesh. Nerve endings were severely damaged—although not destroyed—leaving me with little feeling on my back. Unless, that is, I got a sunburn.
Needless to say, my back wasn’t a pretty sight and women cringed at it.All of them but one, my mind whispered.
I felt the itch of the young med student on my back like the ghost of my sunburn. It had to be the reason for my lack of manners when she’d first strolled into the hospital room. I couldn’t even remember a single fucking word in French.Me.A man who finished college two years ahead of his class, including several French classes.Me.A man who served as a United States Navy SEAL.
Those hazel eyes seemed to shoot straight into my soul.
The way she’d stayed strong despite my sour attitude taking up space on the exam table worked miracles for my libido, even under the excruciating pain on my back.
I glanced back at the file that had been waiting for me when I’d returned to my yacht.Twelve years. For Christ’s sake, I was twelve years older than her, and for some idiotic reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Odette Madeleine Swan.
Finishing up her first year at Stanford. Her father was a French doctor, her mother a fashion model who died twelve years ago. She had an older sister, and they’d both been raised in the States until her mother’s untimely death. Their father brought them back to France and they completed high school in France. As complicated as my family was, hers was the exact opposite.
Simple. Clean. Loving.
Winston appeared at the all-glass door of my office, wearing nothing but swim shorts.
“Will you put some goddamn clothes on?” I grumbled.
He waved his hand. “What for? We’re on the French Riviera. We might as well act French and lounge around all day naked.”
“Except nobody is lounging around but you.”
An idea popped in my head then. It was a bad idea, I knew it. I had honed and perfected every last idea and turned them into smart decisions over the years. This wasn’t one of those.
“Shower and get ready, Winston. I’m taking you out for dinner.” My brother shot me a suspicious look. “I hear Le Bar Américain is all the rage,” I clarified.
At the mention of a bar, his eyes lit up, and for once he listened. I picked up the phone and dialed up my old friend River who’d served with me in Afghanistan. He had a security company in Portugal but happened to be on the French Riviera as well.
He answered on the first ring. “Don’t worry. Your psycho ex is tucked away at The Ritz Carlton. I gave her enough money to make it around the world five times over.”
Fucking Nicki. The worst thing I could have ever done was have a casual relationship with her. And then a shit-faced Winston—on Father’s nudging—had her fly out and meet us in Italy where we were docked for a few days. He’d said it was for me. Bullshit. I knew it was so I’d be too busy to ride his ass.
“Thanks for handling that, River,” I said dryly.
When I woke up with my back burned like a fucking roasted potato, I was in so much pain I’d been fully prepared to murder her. Nicki didn’t even have the smarts to hide it, the sedatives sitting in plain sight. I should have set that whole fucking “friendly” relationship on fire. But l was a fair man, so I gave her a chance to explain herself. Except the dumb bitch took the route of denial, swearing she only gave me a vitamin.
I’d recognize the aftertaste in any fucking lifetime. I’d gotten used to them enough during those first few weeks of recovery. The doctors pumped me full of sedatives to numb the pain and minimize my movements.
Lucky for her, River was there and got her out of my sight before I could actually follow through with my plan.
“Yeah. How’s your back?” River, much like myself, served in the military and had scars. His scars were invisible. Mine… very much in your face.
Those hazel eyes flashed in my mind. “Good.”
